The Heart of a Monster
by FortunesHand
Summary: The journal of the worlds first Claymore. Read along, as he tells the best kept secrets of the Organization. -Read chapter 1 description-


I'm trying something new today. I have a few ideas for stories, but I couldn't decide which one I wanted to use. I've made a short chapter for each one, and I'm going to let the readers decide which one I continue right now, alongside my Persona series.

This one is my Claymore series. I'm creating my own backstory for the origin of the youma and Claymore. Yes, it is OC based. My apologies everyone. But, I digress, leave a favorite, follow or review.

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To the man, woman, or beast that may find this journal, you are possibly the luckiest thing to ever live…Although, in another light, you're the unluckiest as well. What you are about to read are the unknown exports of myself. This story has never been told and will never be told again, unless you decide to tell it. This text is the only proof I ever even existed. I am Claymore, number 0. Number one on the Organizations most wanted. Swordsman extraordinaire, Iori Silverheart. The fable hunter of the North. The white wolf

I was the first. The very first. The organization has plenty of secrets, and I just might be their biggest one. To start this off, I've got a big surprise for any and all Claymore, and awakened beings alike. The male Claymore project was not an utter and total failure. I am living, breathing proof of that. My will is and was far too powerful to be broken by my desires to awaken. I am able to access 95% of the youki flowing through my veins, although, that is by no means the reason I still draw breath today.

When a Claymore is created, the pigmentation of their hair is taken. Usually, the amount of color in one's hair is an accurate representation of their power. The less pigmentation, the better. My hair is as white as untouched snow. It has been ever since birth. Yes, I understand you're questioning how it has been since birth, but that will be explained after I brag about how strong I am. I have the arm speed of Quicksword Irene, the agility of the Phantom Miria, the intelligence and swordsmanship of Isley of the East, the sensory powers of Teresa the Faint Smile, and lastly, the strength of muscular Sophia. All these feats are performed with little to no added energy. Now, I understand, yet again, if you are screaming false at the book in your hand, but this is all easily explained. There had to be a starting point for the Claymore and Youma bloodline, no?

Guess what? I am that starting point. The first Claymore and Youma were created from my own flesh and blood. I am a natural claymore, and as far as I know, I am the only one to ever exist. I was born in the holy city of Rabona, and exiled the very same day. I was a fatherless child. An immaculate conception as some may call it. The problem is, my mother died upon giving birth to me, and as such, I was labeled the son of a demon. As far as I can tell, that may just be true.

The process of exile for an infant is far different than that of an adult, as an infant cannot leave a town under his or her own power. The child is presented to a volunteer who shall take the child from the city at once. Now, you all need to understand something. This moment….This exact moment in time….This very second…This, is where everything went wrong. My escort out of town did not abandon me, as is customary. No, this man took me to a very strange place full of very strange men. This man was the legendary man in black.

I was the key. I was what they had been searching for, all this time. A real demon, that they could use to manufacture others. From a young age, they began training me, and in the process, they even took a bit of my flesh and blood to create the first "Youma". It was a pathetically weak, bottom class Youma. Lanky and disgusting. Even its powers of disguise were flawed to the point of being unusable. It was more like a ravenous animal than a monster, although, it did its job well enough.

They released it on the nearby town known as Kili. It ran through the streets, slaughtering and devouring everything. I was apathetic to the whole process, at that time. These were the men who raised me. Hell, I was no older than the human equivalent of a simple nine year old. I didn't understand, or care at that time. Nothing that mattered to me had been taken from me yet.

The first hunt was rather different from the hunts of today. The man in black himself escorted me to the next town over. We walked through the gates and went straight to the mayor. Now, this is a very strange image to comprehend. I was a skinny nine year old boy, with shoulder length silver hair. I didn't even have a shirt back then. I remember exactly what the man in black said to the elders. "Kili has been destroyed, and everyone in the town is dead. Send a scout if you wish, for the sake of clarification, considering you have no reason to trust me currently. The townsfolk were massacred by a human like beast, and as we speak, it is devouring them. This boy at my side is your only chance of survival. We expect payment but not until the beast is slain."

The men laughed at the small shirtless boy standing before them. The man in black seemed to take this as a challenge, and requested they bring the heaviest weapon a blacksmith has made in this town, to me. They came back with a monstrous, beautifully crafted, iron claymore. The men of town stopped their laughter, as I began to swing the sword around with one hand, as if it were no more than a small stick. I laughed and began to perform tricks with it, tossing it through the air and catching it with one hand. Soon, the man in Black pulled me away from the crowd, as he had organized a suitable deal with the village elders. He told me to sit in front of the town gate, and wait for the beast to arrive.

The crowd followed and watched in fear, as I quietly awaited the, at the time, nameless monster. Not much later, the scout who had been sent out earlier came into view, running for the gate and screaming. Its screams stopped, as it was hacked in half by the claws of the Youma which had been chasing it here. The townsfolk watched in horror, as the Youma crouched over its prey, and began to feast on its innards. I, again, did not care. Soon the beast turned away from the dead scout, as it had noticed a teenage girl who had gotten too close to me. The beast did not account for me, as its eyesight was near nonexistent, and its sense of smell had me marked as one of its own. It charged for the girl, and would have torn her to shreds in seconds, had I not been there. The torso was cut from the waist by a smooth slash from my claymore, which sent its chest soaring through the air. I followed up with a complete follow through into a spin, and decapitated it midair.

The chest and arms fell at the girl's feet, and the head collided with her chest, knocking her back a bit. The pieces hit the ground with a sickening splatter, inciting a cheer from the audience of townsfolk. I laughed heartily and turned my attention back to the man in black. "Is that all? Really? All that over this filth?!" I shouted to him, as he collected the silver from the village elders.

He grinned and tipped his cap to them before taking his place at my side. He took a small sample of the flesh when no one was looking, and led the way out of town, tossing me the heavy bag of silver. He patted me on the head as we walked along the weathered path. I looked up to him, and he smiled down at me, and said "Well done, Iori".

That was the first time I had ever been given a name. I kept it, as a reminder, even now, as a free being. I will never forget what they did to those girls and boys. What they did to me.


End file.
